


No Clue Without You

by sabriel75



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Community: thegameison_sh, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Triangle, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Lestrade doesn't like knowing Sherlock lets Watson get away with murder or that they're constantly mistaken for a couple.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Clue Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge One at [thegameison_sh](http://community.livejournal.com/thegameison_sh/) and feels pitifully silly and OOC but yeah... the idea is that it takes place when Lestrade comes over to interview Watson and Sherlock after _A Study in Pink_.

To say we were shell-shocked might be a slight exaggeration, especially in regards to the fact that I had shot a man for Sherlock which I had not felt an ounce of remorse about of yet, but in actuality the bloody kiss did take both of us by surprise that maybe we were a bit more stunned by yesterday’s events than we cared to admit.

Whatever the reason, we noticed no signs that our collaborated lies had not fooled Lestrade. He judiciously took our statements with such a solemn air that not even Sherlock felt comfortable mouthing off and certainly without hint that he was aggravated beyond his normal breaking point.

Either way, we were oblivious of his mood until he stood, a bit stiff, and growled through gritted teeth, “Stop lying to me.”

We were struck dumb. I certainly was and Sherlock was not talking, arguing or flaying Lestrade alive with his masterful command of the English language like usual. So I can only assume based upon his behavior in the short time we have been acquainted, he was similarly incapacitated.

Maybe it was meant to be, neither of us talking, and Lestrade took the silence for a confession, giving a disapproving shake of his head when our eyes met. Sherlock got an angry glare before he settled on a you know better look aimed at both us as he moved across the room to kneel in front of Sherlock’s hunched form on the couch.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Sherlock.”

I could tell Sherlock wanted to say something. His mouth flapped open and close, but it was as if his brain had run off with his vocal chords. Even after a few more spasmodic jerks of his mouth, he couldn’t find his voice and Lestrade smiled.

In retrospect, it probably was more of a leer.

He kissed Sherlock.

On. The. Mouth.

He then proceeded to see himself to the door without a by your leave, grabbing his coat and scarf thrown haphazardly over a chair earlier.

Only the door slamming in his dramatic exit snapped Sherlock and I to attention.

“It was bound to happen.”

My eyebrows shot up in question, “What? Your first kiss?”

Sherlock snorted, but said nothing, simply staring at the shut door in contemplation.

The question had been rhetorical and meant to goad him into speaking, possibly enlightening me to how he felt.

I tried again, “Oh! You meant Lestrade professing his love for you finally?”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed as he gave me a particularly how dense are you frown as he replied too quickly to catch himself, “Yes. No. Sort of.”

“Yeah?” I hoped he understood, because more intelligent speech escaped me yet again.

A piercing glance was all I got before Sherlock stood up, grabbing his coat and scarf.

“Going after him, then?”

“Really Watson, those romantic sensibilities of yours lead to divorce more often than not.”

It was my turn to snort now.

“If you could keep your juvenile thoughts to a minimum, you would understand that it is about time Lestrade realizes he needs me.”

Both of my eyebrows shot up and I kindly refrained from explaining how many innuendos I could make out of that statement, knowing Sherlock probably had already mentally categorized them all.

“How else do you explain Lestrade finally demonstrating thanks for all I have done?”

“Maybe he worried if he didn’t show you affection, something else might happen to you first?”

Sherlock shrugged into his coat in an effort not to wrinkle the suit underneath. “It’s not like that.”

As he tied the scarf around his neck, I pulled at the collar so it was even all around. “Hm? Well, we’ve only just begun sharing a flat and I did save your life…”

“He doesn’t?!”

I tilted my head in disbelief at his naïveté. “It wouldn’t be the first time since we met; someone has mistaken us for a couple.”

Sherlock raced out the door in a panic.

I did laugh then.

Despite his brilliant mind, his masterful deductions or his acute observations; Sherlock hadn’t a clue Lestrade was in love with him… until me.


End file.
